


Talking In Code (baby, we’re long gone)

by colorme_zarry



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: AU, Angry Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Famous Singer Zayn, M/M, Sorta Famous Model Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:52:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorme_zarry/pseuds/colorme_zarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt:</p><p>It’s a very simple text Harry receives from Zayn during Paris Fashion Week; only three words, "Come see me?"</p><p>It's a simple text, but it's not because after having a relationship with Zayn that Liam categorized as "complicated," it was hard for Harry to let everything go. But he has and Zayn's text is threatening to bring him back.</p><p>An AU story that takes place in Zayn's Parisian hotel room in 2018.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking In Code (baby, we’re long gone)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [easily_moved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/easily_moved/gifts).



> Thank you thank to your lovely prompt - I wasn't sure if it was meant to be canon or not but I went in a little different direction if that was the case :)
> 
> Title from Margot and the Nuclear So and So's song Talking In Code

_**June 2018** _

 

**Come see me?**

The text had come through exactly three hours, twelve minutes, and thirty-seven seconds ago as Harry sat in a chair getting his hair and makeup done. He’d thought of nothing else since. He was yelled at for losing focus during the run through, then lectured again as he prepared to step out onto the runway to open St Laurent’s Fall 2018 Collection, and finally he was scolded by Liam even while everyone else swooned about his moody display during the backstage rush.

Harry moved through it all on autopilot, realizing too late that he was sharing an absurd story with the cluster of reporters that always hovered near him at any given time. When he realized it he cut himself off as quickly as he could with a cheeky wink and a little smirk and then he was being rushed by security to his waiting car. Once sheltered in the quiet, Harry pulled his mobile out, fingering at the display before entering his passcode.

It was a new number. There was no real surprise there. But it didn’t matter because Harry knew; knew it was from _him_.

**Come see me?**

Harry snorted, horrified to notice it was a wet snort and that he was crying. It was so typically _Zayn_ to beckon and expect for Harry to come running. And it was so typically Harry that he’d drop it all and do just that.

 

 

_**November 2016** _

 

 

“So what? He texts you - doesn’t even fucking call - and you just want to cancel on Chanel?”

Harry rolled his eyes, trying to tug the pair of jeans out from under Liam. Unfortunately he wouldn’t budge. So Harry abandoned that pair and strolled into his closet to find a nearly identical set before dropping it into his leather carryall.

“I’m not listening to you.” Harry singsonged as he threw various articles of clothing he thought he might need onto the bed. If he forgot something, he could always buy it and he probably didn’t need much clothing anyway. “He’s got a few days off and has a yacht rented. There will be other Chanels.”

“Harry - why are you doing this?” Liam spit out, starting to pull clothes out of the bag like a child.

“Doing what, Liam?” Harry glanced over in confusion. Liam had never spoken to him like this before in his life.

“This - whatever this shit with Zayn Malik is.”

“Why do you always have to say it like that? It’s not shit.” Harry huffed, making a grab for the printed shirt in Liam’s hand and tugging it away from him. “We’re in a relationship.”

Liam laughed in disbelief, brown eyes widening almost comically as he threw Harry’s carryall on to the ground, more of its contents spilling out onto the floor. “He doesn’t care about you.” He yelled and Harry recoiled like he’d been slapped, opening his mouth to respond but Liam kept going.

“No - I’ve stood by for the last eleven months and watched this game he’s playing with you. He comes into town like a hurricane; he fucks you on every surface he can and then he’s gone. Or he brings you out for one tour date and you repeat the process. Or he jets you off to an exclusive and absurdly priced holiday like you’re some kind of pet. He parades you around - fancy dinners and expensive gifts. But when you’re gone he’s spotted with dozens of men and women - doesn’t matter who, he’s not picky it seems as long as it’s a warm body, regardless of if it’s you or not.

“ _Listen to me_ , Harry - Zayn Malik does not care about you.”

Harry felt like he’d been slapped in the face. He couldn’t stop his frown, couldn’t stop the way his face crumpled as his best friend shouted at him every single disgusting thought he’d ever had about his own relationship with Zayn. Liam wasn’t wrong. There were others. So so many of them. When they were apart - which was more often than not - Harry was always seeing pap photos of Zayn walking out of a club with girls nipping at his heels or guys sauntering after him. He knew how the media was so he ignored it. Zayn was his; he was sure of it. Because Zayn didn’t wrap his arms around those strangers, he didn’t make sure to keep a steady hand on their back or take them out to eat or go on vacation with them. Zayn just…those other people were friends. That was it.

“Liam, please - you don’t know him. You don’t know how he is when we’re al - ”

“Oh, when you’re alone?” Liam gave a derisive snort. “Of course, I’m sure he proclaims his undying love and affection but that you can’t be exclusive just yet because it wouldn’t fit with his image.”

“That’s not fair. He’s stressed about being on the road and he’s friends with most of those people. His band likes to party, it’s not a big deal.” Harry felt his shoulders shoot up to his ears, feeling tense and off kilter. ‘It was fine’ had become Harry’s mantra; he didn’t understand why Liam wouldn’t let him have that. They were fine, Harry and Zayn were _HarryandZayn_. They were a thing, he knew they were.

“Why’re you lying to yourself?” Liam asked, tugging at his hair in frustration. “Harry - you see it; I _know_ you do. He’s - he doesn’t love you, mate. He’s using you.”

Harry swallowed hard, letting the words hang between them. Something in him twisted, stomach rolling and he felt dizzy with the truth. It had been nearly a year of being head over arse for Zayn. Eleven months trying to get him to see that Harry was _meant_ to be Zayn’s boyfriend and not just his fuck buddy. That they could do exclusive, that Harry would be whatever Zayn wanted him to be.

But he thought he might be failing and he couldn’t stop it. So if he just held on, just made himself available and was always the one that showed up when Zayn called then Zayn would see it differently. He’d start to see Harry as more; Harry knew it. He’d never not gotten what he’d wanted. And he wanted Zayn Malik mind, body and soul.

So, Harry snatched up his carryall, shoved the clothes back in and bit down on his lip to avoid crying.

“Fuck you, Liam. You don’t know _anything_.”

And before he could respond, Harry was out the door and on his way to Zayn.

 

 

_**June 2018** _

 

_Okay._

It wasn’t difficult to find Zayn, not in Paris. Zayn Malik only ever stayed in one place when he came to Paris. The Garden Suite at the Peninsula Hotel was one that Harry was intimately familiar with and the second he felt like he could breathe again, he asked the driver to take him there. It took everything in him to not dive out of the moving vehicle the closer they got to the 16th arrondissement, the overwhelming urge to run only overcome by his urge to understand why Zayn was even bothering to contact him again.

Zayn must have known that Harry would know where to find him because there was no responding text. Harry’s hands shook as he tossed his mobile back and forth between them barely noticing the sights of the city whizz by him. When they pulled up to the front of the hotel, Harry swallowed hard.

“Thanks.” He murmured. “I - I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

The driver gave a bored wave and Harry didn’t much care where he’d go to wait for him to be ready to back to his own hotel. Harry always made a point to never set foot near this place - not for over a year. He stepped out of the car, ducking his head on instinct as he made his way up the steps quickly. It was early evening, still bright out and unusually warm. Parisians were lazily strolling the streets, some pulling on long, thin cigarettes, others just walking and enjoying the air.

He maneuvered around them, barely pausing as he strode into the white marbled entryway going straight to the elevator. It wasn’t ideal, and he was worried about being recognized but he didn’t think his legs were steady enough for the stairs. It was a miracle but he made it to the sixth floor without being stopped and then he was standing in front of an all too familiar white door.

 

 

_**October 2016** _

 

 

Harry was slow to come to consciousness. Jet lag was crushing at the best of times but when it was a twenty hour flight it was a whole new level of exhaustion. He didn’t know what woke him except for the soft breeze floating across his skin like the ghost of fingertips. He shifted slightly, burying his face in the soft pillow and snuffling grumpily. He blinked against the dull sunlight before closing his eyes, ready to fall back asleep.

That was until he realized it wasn’t a breeze but actual fingers dancing along his bare skin. Through bleary eyes, he shifted to see warm caramel eyes and a sleepy smile.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been up before you.” Zayn murmured, voice sticky with sleep and as slow as Harry’s usually was. He ran a gentle finger along Harry’s cheekbone. “It’s a shame. You’re so pretty and soft in sleep.”

Zayn’s thumb dragged along Harry’s lower lip and Harry lazily nipped at it.

“Forgot where I was.” Harry spoke with a little smile. “It took ages to get here.”

Zayn smiled softly, hair messy and wild around his perfect face. Harry reached up to brush at his cheekbones, trailing his index finger along the line of his scruff until he was stroking his jaw lightly. “You looked so pretty on those runways, pet.”

“You watched?” Harry asked, unable to hide the delight and awe from his voice.

Zayn scoffed prettily - because everything he did was done prettily - and he leaned down to replace his thumb with his lips. “Course - I watch all your shows.”

Harry flushed and rolled onto his back, grabbing for Zayn and dragging him on top of him. It should have been disgusting, morning breath and all but it had been weeks since they’d been together and it wasn’t long before they were kissing like they needed it to live. Zayn was the first to pry Harry’s mouth open with his tongue, dipping in softly and so much more gently than he usually did.

Zayn rolled onto his side so he could tuck his hands in Harry’s hair, tugging at the long curls and drawing him in closer. It had been late when Harry had arrived so he had just shed his clothes and crawled into bed, tucking his body against Zayn’s before dropping off. Now that the light was filtering in through the open doors, he could properly see the little pair of black briefs Zayn had slept in and he could see the wide swaths of golden skin he’d missed so much. He trailed his fingers along the ink splattered across Zayn’s skin, brushing his knuckles along the playing card etched on his ribs before moving down to run his thumb along the heart on his hip.

Harry pulled at Zayn’s hips, tugging him until he was pressed against him. Their tongues lashed together, but it was still soft, so so soft and Harry couldn’t help but loosen his grip a bit. He thumbed gently at the line of Zayn’s briefs, feeling his abs quiver as he gave a soft whimper.

“Missed you so much.” Zayn was mumbling between kisses, chasing Harry’s mouth between breaths. “God, what you do to me.”

Harry shivered. Zayn was usually fierce and rough, biting and clawing at Harry until he gave Zayn everything. He’d sent Harry from his bed with rings of bruises around his hips and bites along his chest and collarbones, marks tattooed along his inner thighs and ass. Harry had felt bruised and beaten after nights with Zayn, pushed at the reminders of their stolen time together when they had to immediately separate. It had always been everything to Harry, those marks. But it had never been like this, Zayn cradling Harry’s face gently, pressing soft kisses along his lips before pushing Harry onto his back and clamoring on top of him to trail his lips down his neck. Zayn ran his fingertips along Harry’s chest, tracing along the swallows and just barely grazing at his nipples. Harry whimpered at the sensation, glancing down to see the obscene slick of his lips and the curtain of black hair falling over half his face.

Zayn continued his slow exploration of Harry’s chest, running his tongue along one nipple before moving over to the other. Harry squirmed beneath him, bucking up in an attempt to gain any bit of friction, already feeling his cock fattening like he didn’t always wake up hard when he was with Zayn. Zayn started to move down Harry’s frame, pressing his lips along the rungs of his ribs, swirling his tongue in Harry’s belly button and smirking when Harry gave a low whine.

“Don’t tease, Zayn. _Please._ ”

“Please what, Harry?” Zayn breathed, moving down even further until he was pressing his nose against his hardened length through the thin layer of fabric.

“Anything - just anything.” He choked out, eyes straying to the way Zayn’s lashes were tangled and the way his chest was heaving up and down for all he was trying to act in control.

“Everything, pet.” Zayn murmured, pressing his lips softly against Harry before tucking his fingers into the top of Harry’s briefs and yanking them down. “I want everything from you.”

 

 

_**June 2018** _

 

 

Harry hesitated for a few long minutes, staring at the innocuous door like it might share its secrets with him. Finally he raised his hand and knocked twice, slowly but surely.

He barely had time before the door was swinging open. Harry’s breath caught in his throat like every cliche he’d ever thought about but that’s what Zayn did to him - brought him to a point where he could barely function. He looked...well, he looked like Zayn always did: like he was the one stepping off runways, not Harry. His hair was different, no longer the edgy undercut that was long enough for Harry to tug at. Instead, it was thick and spiked on top with the sides shorter but looking no less soft. Harry had seen the papers track his hair evolution, seen the gray-pink-green evolutions but this suited him. Everything suited him.

“Harry.” Zayn breathed out softly, almost reverently and Harry hated the way he wanted to reach for him already. There was something tentative about Zayn when he stepped back to hold the door open so Harry could slide in. Stepping into the all too familiar room, Harry tried not to stare at all the surfaces Zayn had bent him over at one time or another.

The tension was thick and heavy between them but Harry could feel Zayn’s steady gaze on the back of his neck. Harry had to close his eyes against the rush of memories that flooded his brain, aching with the need to touch Zayn that was trying to overpower the need to sprint out of the room.

“How are you?” Zayn asked and Harry turned around and bit down on his lip.

“No.” Harry spat and Zayn recoiled at the venom in his voice, almost surprised by it. “We are not doing this, Zayn. We are not pretending like we’re strangers just meeting or we’re friends. What the fuck am I doing here?”

To Harry’s surprise, Zayn just smirked and gave a soft laugh before rubbing at his face tiredly. “Fuck.” He muttered more to himself than to Harry. “Can we - can we just - “ he nodded in the direction of the open doors that led to the rooftop.

Harry nodded stiffly, stepping back and giving an exaggerated bow so that Zayn could lead the way. He had come; that was all Zayn had asked for. Harry didn’t have to like it.

He followed Zayn through the suite and up the short flight of stairs that led to the private rooftop garden. It was like Zayn had specifically chosen this place to reunite solely to fuck with Harry. Paris would forever be a Harry-and-Zayn place; this specific hotel would always be steeped in memories that were usually too painful to visit.

When they reached the roof, Harry was surprised to find a small table for two set up with a bottle of champagne, a tumbler of whisky and a platter laden with cheese and baguettes waiting for them. There were dozens of candles lit in the still-fading daylight and the Eiffel Tower had just been illuminated, glowing across the skyline.

“What the fuck is this?” Harry spit out, eyes widening in anger. He noticed Zayn stiffen, the planes of his back going rigid and his shoulders scrunched up against his ears. No matter how much time had passed, he’d still be able to read Zayn Malik’s body like it was a book dedicated only to him.

But Harry didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about hurting Zayn with his words anymore nor did he care about how the hurt and confusion seeped through his voice, giving away his every thought and feeling like he always did when faced with Zayn. He didn’t know what Zayn wanted but he certainly hadn’t expected him to be recreating the first time they’d ever been together. And fuck him for thinking he could.

 

 

_**December 2015** _

 

 

Harry _loved_ after parties.

To be fair, this was only the second one he’d really attended but he was quickly finding that he loved everything about them. He loved the flashing lights that greeted him, photographers not yet knowing his name but knowing he was _someone_. He loved the delicate trays of champagne that were offered up more freely than water. He loved the people dispelling their excited energy throughout the room. He _wanted wanted wanted_ this life so badly he’d do almost anything to make sure he fit here.

Harry knew he wasn’t a typical model. He knew all his flaws; his bambi-like walk, his aptitude for tripping over nothing, the way his dimples made him look somewhat childish if he grinned too big. But he also knew he had charm and the ability to get anyone - even the surliest of designers - to fall into his orbit. And he was going to use those abilities to make sure everyone know his name if it killed him.

“Haz! Look at you!” Niall slurred, grabbing for Harry as he walked by. He nearly lost his footing when Niall pulled at the dip of his shirt, dragging him towards the group of musicians that he usually ran around with. Harry put on his brightest grin, using his free hand to ruffle his hair and push it to the side. It was very much a nervous tic but enough people seemed to like it that he could play it off.

Niall threw his arm around Harry’s neck, pulling him in tightly before turning him towards the group. “Lads - this ‘ere is the next big thing: Mr. Harry Styles.”

Harry flushed, dropping his gaze for a second before facing the small group. There were just three or four faces but when Harry looked up his eyes widened to find Zayn Malik staring at him.

“Hiya.” Harry mumbled, eyes fixed with Zayn’s. He watched as Zayn’s lips turned up in a filthy smirk, curving around the lip of the whiskey he had in one hand. Zayn lifted the glass in hello. It was only a second but Harry swore one hazel eye winked and he was positive he blacked out before coming back to himself and smiling charmingly at the rest of the crowd.

“Next big thing in what?” a loud voice interrupted. Harry’s gaze snapped over to meet the un-friendliest smile Harry had ever seen. He recognized this face too - Louis Tomlinson, the name everyone wanted managing their musical careers. Harry didn’t let the outright scorn bother him; it wasn’t new. Instead he pasted on his best ‘you will like me!’ face, ready to get this unpleasant human to like him.

He had an answer ready but Zayn of all people cut him off. “Pretty obvious, yeah? Not sure anyone in music could pull off a sheer shirt with a dragon on his back so it must be fashion.”

Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes unkindly but Harry was nothing if not determined. Somehow, through the ringing in his ears that seemed to accompany Zayn’s voice - _Zayn’s voice defending him_ \- he managed to speak. “I’m happy to sing for you if you need any help in figuring out why I’m just a pretty face.” He offered and he was satisfied to find Louis’ lips quirk up in a little smile.

“Nah, mate. Stick to catwalks. Though from what I hear, you have trouble with straight lines.”

“I have a lot of trouble being straight.” He offered with an exaggerated wink that had Niall bursting out in a laugh.

“Cheeky little fuck.” Louis nudged Zayn but begrudgingly smiled at Harry. Zayn was still staring at Harry in that disarming way; his eyes dark and intensely focused on Harry’s face. He felt his cheeks flush a bit from the attention but brushed it off and turned to the rest of the group to make sure they all fell in love with him.

\---

“Sorry about Lou.” The voice was low and too close to Harry’s hear and he jerked his hand, spilling champagne all over in the process.

“Shit.” He hissed as he felt goosebumps explode across the back of his neck because he knew that voice. And he somehow recognized the smell already. So he wasn’t surprised when he spun around to find Zayn standing there with a smirk. Harry had spent all night waltzing around the room, making everyone fall in love with him, while still keeping one eye on Zayn. He was far and away the most famous person in the room: five time Grammy winner, top-selling artist the last two years running and only twenty three. If Harry craved attention and acceptance from anyone here, it was him. But Zayn had stayed away, always surrounded by other people even while they seemed to catch each other’s eye too many times for it to be coincidence.

Zayn just chuckled at the flush on Harry’s cheeks, eyes following his movement when he went to ruffle at his hair so that Harry hesitated, dropping his hand mid-ruffle in favor of fingering at the material of his shirt, catching the sheer fabric between his thumb and forefinger as he stared down at his front.

“Didn’t mean to startle you but I wanted to leave soon.”

Surprised by his words, Harry’s eyes shot up to meet Zayn’s catching the way they seemed to glow in the dim light. He felt a bit stupid and tongue tied as he stared back at him, swallowing hard as he watched the delicate skin along the column of Zayn’s throat wanting nothing more than to lean forward and bite at his collarbones. The script that just barely peeked out from the collar of his t-shirt, the white of it gleaming against the slick black of his leather jacket. Because of course Zayn would look like he’d stepped off a runway, of course he’d look like every one of Harry’s fantasies.

“Oh?” he managed foolishly. His tongue felt thick and useless as he stared wide-eyed and breathless back at Zayn.

Zayn stepped closer until the toes of his black shoes were brushing against the tips of Harry’s weathered brown boots. Harry inhaled sharply, breathing in the heady scent as he tried to focus on clearing his head and coming up with something intelligent to say. All he could do was stare as Zayn leaned in close until his lips were just an inch from his. It would be so easy to just lick out against them.

But Zayn tilted up to press his lips to the curve of Harry’s ear. “Yeah, can’t chase you around the room anymore.”

Harry felt his heart twitter and his stomach swoop. He thought he’d been the only one playing the game, catching Zayn’s eye from across the room before doing his best smirk and flirty eye before dancing on to the next group.

“Oh?” Harry stuttered again just as Zayn’s fingers came up twist with his, pulling them away from the fabric of his shirt until they were tangled together at his side.

Zayn smirked as he pulled back so he was no longer breathing into Harry’s ear but was still only inches from his face. Harry just stared dumbly at his lips, using all of his barely there self-control to not lean forward and press against his.

“Yeah. So I thought I’d tell you I’m leaving now incase you wanted to come with me. And I think you do.” He was still smirking like he knew that Harry would do anything he asked him to do. He certainly wasn’t wrong.

“Yes!” Harry yelped before he could think. “I mean, yeah - yes, please. I’d like that very much.”

Zayn smiled softly at Harry’s fumbled words and Harry thought there might be a little bit of fond mixed in with the obvious amusement. Zayn was looking up at him through a devastating curtain of lashes and all Harry could focus on was the thundering of his blood in his ears and the way Zayn was currently stroking at the back of his hand.

“Come’on then, model. I’m interested to see if you wear sheer pants too.”

Harry flushed deeply and tried to think of something witty and flirty and sexy to say back but instead he was afraid all he managed was a low moan and maybe another string of _yes, please_ es.

\---

Harry’s eyes widened as Zayn led them through the elegant marble entry and up the steps to the elevator. He couldn’t really see straight, the flashing from the cameras leaving spots of white behind the lids of his eyes. He kept a tight grip on Zayn’s hand, just like he had as they walked out of the club, squeezing tightly as he was led to the car. It was a terrifying experience, feeling the crush of bodies grappling forward as only two burly security guards tried to keep the crowd at bay. When they’d climbed into the car, Harry had to take a few calming breaths as Zayn eyed him carefully. But then feeling Zayn’s heavy stare on him, Harry had shaken off his nerves and instead climbed into Zayn’s lap to try to prove he was just as sexy as Zayn thought he was, that Harry was worth being brought back to his room.

When they’d arrived at the hotel, tumbling out of the car with bruised lips and Harry painfully half-hard in his tight jeans, he couldn’t help staring up in wonder at the massive building in front of him. Harry was staying in a hotel that was barely a step above a hostel, three other models sharing the room that was only meant for two. Zayn had to tug at his hand to get him moving as he’d paused in the midst of the lobby to stare at the glass chandelier floating elegantly above them.

“Do you want to stare at art all day or do you want to come up to my room?” Zayn teased, dragging him towards the elevator with that devastating smirk of his.

Harry pulled his stare away from his surroundings to focus on the beautiful man tugging at his hand. Harry draped himself around Zayn’s frame, pressing against his back so Zayn could feel every inch of him. He pressed his lips against Zayn’s ear, tugging at the lobe, teeth catching on the tiny diamond earring . “Dunno, babe - what do you think?”

Harry caught himself grinning when Zayn answered with a moan, dropping his head back against Harry’s shoulder so Harry could catch his lips, kissing him dirtily as he squeezed tightly at Zayn’s front.

“Fuck.” Zayn hissed out. “Need to get you into bed.”

Harry chuckled and nipped again at his lips. “Bed, wall, counter - ‘m not picky.”

Zayn let out what could only be characterized as a growl just as the elevator doors pinged open. He didn’t say anything as he jolted forward, bringing Harry’s body with him. The doors had barely shut before Zayn was pushing Harry up against the mirrored wall, crowding in close until their hips were pressed tightly together. Zayn bracketed Harry in with his arms, pushing into him and rolling his hips until Harry was whimpering.

“Filthy little tease,” Zayn hissed out and Harry dropped his head back against the wall so that Zayn could nip and bite at his skin. Harry just moaned, just wanting _more more more_.

“Zaynnnn.” He whined, voice pitched high as he grappled under Zayn’s jacket, trying to tug at his shirt until he could reach skin.

“No.” Zayn grunted, catching Harry’s wrists together. “Only if you’re a good boy do you get to touch.”

“Kinky.” Harry huffed against Zayn’s lips, just as the doors opened on their floor. A little bit of light came back into Zayn’s blackened eyes, smiling softly as he leaned forward to press another hard kiss to Harry’s lips.

“God, you’re something else.” Zayn grunted before dragging Harry out of the elevator and down the hall. As Zayn tried to get the key to the room out of his pocket, Harry amused himself by tonguing along Zayn’s neckline, pressing his lips against the sharp line of his hair as he pressed his nose there, breathing in the scent of Zayn. He smelled luxurious and rich and already a bit like sex.

Harry gripped at Zayn’s hips, pushing against his back and Zayn whined a bit. “You keep doing that, I’ll fuck you in this hallway.”

“Promise?” Harry purred, biting again at Zayn’s ear.

Zayn just huffed, finally getting the little light to flash green as the door clicked open. The pair of them practically fell into the room then the door was slamming shut and Harry was pressed against it. Harry expected another rough kiss, expected Zayn to already start grappling with his clothes until they were scattered across the floor. Instead Zayn pressed against him, arms boxing Harry in just like they had on the elevator, breaths coming out in short huffs, warm puffs of air kissing along Harry’s lips.

Harry stared down at him, waiting for Zayn to make the first move. Zayn was staring up at him, eyes searching his own and Harry felt stuck, bringing his hand up to brush at Zayn’s jaw.

“You have a freckle in your eye.” Harry whispered, stuck stupidly in Zayn’s gaze.

“And you have little flecks of sunlight in yours.” Zayn murmured before catching Harry in a soft kiss that quickly turned into a battle. Harry was having a hard time breathing, caught between the desire to let Zayn swallow his soul down with each kiss and the need to have as much of Zayn as he was trying to take.

“Bed - you should take me to bed.” Harry breathed out through bruised and puffy lips. Zayn smirked, pulling back as he let his hands drop to Harry’s chest. His fingers tugged roughly at the buttons of the Gucci shirt Harry had been loaned for the evening out. “Careful, I have to return this.”

“I’ll buy you a new one; buy you anything you want if you just get this off now.” Zayn mumbled through kisses, pushing the material of the shirt until it was sliding off Harry onto the ground.

Harry flushed and pulled back, feeling instantly cold despite the way Zayn was still pressed against him. Zayn whined low in his throat when Harry wouldn’t let him kiss him. “M not - that’s not why I’m here? Like, I don’t expect anything. You don’t like need to buy me?”

Zayn glanced up at him, surprise evident in his eyes. “I - shit, babes - that’s, I didn’t mean it that way.”

Harry exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding before he smirked slowly, letting his lips curve up and just one dimple press into his cheek. He knew how to do this, smile until he could get what he wanted. And he wanted this. Wanted it so so badly he might have let Zayn buy him anything if that’s what it took, no matter how much he knew how bad that would look.

But filthy smirks and even filthier words with a pretty boy was something he could do. So he leaned forward, nipping at Zayn’s lower lip. “I bet my lips can do a lot more if you let them.”

Harry let himself grin fully for a minute when he saw Zayn swallow hard, eyes back to nearly black as he tugged at Harry’s hand to pull him deeper into the suite. Harry could barely take in his surroundings, staring at the back of Zayn’s head as he led the way, tugging at Harry’s hand to get him moving. Harry took the initiative to kick off his boots as he walked, reaching forward to tug at Zayn’s shirt, fingers brushing at the soft skin of his back.

By the time they reached the bedroom, Harry thought he might pass out from the way his cock was straining against the zip of his jeans. He thought he might die if Zayn didn’t touch him; if he didn’t touch Zayn. Harry was taller but there was undeniable strength thrumming through Zayn’s body as he spun them around and pushed Harry onto the bed. He landed with a little oomph, worried for a second he might go flying off the other edge.

“Ohh, this is comfy.” Harry bounced on the bed, thumbing at the fabric of the duvet.

Zayn stared down at him, smiling a little in disbelief. “Do you want to talk about thread counts?”

“Well,” he drawled out. “You’re the one just standing there. There was some talk of fucking.”

Zayn broke from his hot stare for a moment, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled into half-moons and his tongue tucked behind his teeth. Harry leaned up on his elbows, letting his hair fall into his eyes to give his steamiest look.

“ _You_ are something else.” Zayn said softly, stalking closer so he could crawl up the bed. He tugged at the edge of Harry’s jeans, pulling him down the bed as he traced his fingers along Harry’s bare chest. “Your tattoos are ridiculous.”

Harry grinned shamelessly, bucking up against Zayn eliciting a delicious whine from him. “They taste better than they look.”

“Do they now?” Zayn mumbled, leaning forward so he was braced above Harry. Harry reached up to run a hand through Zayn’s hair, tugging at the long strands until Zayn’s lips were back on his. It was different now, the playful teasing was gone and Zayn wasn’t messing around anymore as he started to attack Harry’s lips, biting into his lower lip before trailing along his jaw. He nipped and sucked along Harry’s collarbones and Harry felt stars burst behind his eyes as Zayn continued to move down his body. He ran his tongue along every tattoo, making a point to snort at the butterfly on his stomach before tracing his pink pink tongue along the outline of it.

“You’re right, they do taste good. Any more down here?” he asked, continuing his slow path down Harry’s body.

He flicked the button of Harry’s jeans open, slowly pulling down the zipper before smirking up Harry. “They aren’t sheer but I think this might be better.”

Harry groaned and dropped his head back against the bed, never so thankful for his habit of going commando as he was right then because Zayn’s breath was hot on his skin and he was staring down at Harry in awe. He paused in pulling at Harry’s jeans, brushing his thumb over Harry’s slit and smearing the small bubble of precome along the head.

“Pretty.” Zayn purred, staring in wonder at Harry squirming beneath him. “So so pretty.” Every breath that hit his tip made Harry squirm even more but Zayn didn’t do much more besides brush his thumb once more along the head of his prick before focusing again on getting Harry’s jeans off.

It took some effort, Zayn huffing out in frustration as he tried to tug the material away from Harry’s legs while Harry just giggled at the sight. When Harry’s jeans were finally off, Zayn’s cheeks were flushed and he was still fully clothed. Harry poked his stomach with his toe, running along the lightly defined abs and feeling his mouth water for what was under that t-shirt. “You planning on staying clothed?”

“Maybe. Maybe want to tease you a bit.”

Harry smirked, rolling onto his stomach and coming up on all fours. He threw his head back, tossing his hair so the curls brushed at the nape of his neck. He wiggled his ass, grinning when he saw Zayn staring at him and licking his lips. Zayn reached out, brushing his thumbs slowly along the edge of Harry’s cheeks and he keened forward at the slight touch.

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Wanted you all night. Wondered what kind of noises you’d make.” Zayn mumbled, smacking Harry lightly before smoothing his palm along the round of his ass.

Zayn kept his hands on Harry, leaning forward to nip him. Harry let out a filthy moan, a whine stuck in his throat. Zayn pressed open mouth kisses along his lower back before dipping lower.

“Zaaaayn, don’t tease. Please - please do something.” Harry breathed out, dropping onto his forearms as he tried to rub against the blanket in an attempt to get some friction.

“ _No_.” Zayn growled, pulling roughly at Harry’s hips until he was back on all fours. “Patience, baby.” He kissed up Harry’s spine until he was pressing his body against Harry’s. Zayn tugged at his ear with his teeth, “What do you want?”

Harry trembled at the vibration of Zayn’s voice, pushing back into him and choking on the air when Zayn balanced on one hand to grip at Harry’s length, stroking him softly. The tug of his dry hand built pleasurable friction that had Harry wanting to collapse again. Zayn slowly jerked Harry up and down until he was whimpering and babbling nonsense.

“ _Please please please._ ”

“Please what, pet?” Zayn panted against Harry’s neck and he felt slightly smug that Zayn was as affected as he was. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you - ” he gulped “want you to fuck me.” Harry whimpered as Zayn twisted his wrist, continuing to stroke him carefully. Zayn chuckled, keeping his lips against Harry’s matted curls. He pressed a kiss to the back of Harry’s head and gave a final tug before drawing away from him. Harry whimpered, needing Zayn back, needing him to touch him, fuck him, do _something_ to him.

Harry whined hating that Zayn was teasing him but he was so hard he didn’t think he’d last through the first thrust. His brain was echoing _ZaynZaynZayn_ against his skull. It was all he could think about. Harry didn’t know how he’d gone from walking in his first major fashion show to Zayn Malik’s bed. He didn’t know how he was going to survive the night then go back to being normal tomorrow. Zayn...Zayn was doing something to Harry that he hadn’t felt before. He was teasing and playful then rough and bruising. Harry didn’t want this just for one night but if that’s all he got, he was going to make sure Zayn remembered him.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts he jolted forward when Zayn returned to the bed, brushing his fingers along Harry’s rim. He shot forward, moaning at the slickness of Zayn’s finger pressing into him. Zayn kept his lips pressed to Harry’s shoulder as he slowly started to open him up. Harry panted loudly, shutting his eyes tightly as he tried not to come before Zayn even got inside him. He shifted forward when Zayn finally pushed three fingers in, his voice still in Harry’s ear mumbling about how pretty he looked and how good he was at taking Zayn’s fingers, how Zayn couldn’t wait to be inside him.

“‘M ready, please. Just - please, Zayn. Please - I need you.” Zayn chuckled as Harry babbled, still slowly stroking him, brushing against his prostate until Harry was falling back down onto his forearms.

“Ask me nicely, Harry.” Zayn gritted, voice rough and cracked. Harry smirked, pressing back against Zayn’s fingers.

“Ho - how many times do I have to say it?”

“Again, pet. Need to hear you beg.”

“Please, Zayn. Please fuck me.”

Zayn chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out of Harry with a wet pop. Harry collapsed onto his front, wiggling against the sheets, so hard he thought he might pass out.

“Turn over for me, love.” Zayn’s voice was gentle again, hand on Harry’s hip to help him roll over.

Harry blinked up through hooded eyes, realizing Zayn had shed his clothes and there were now acres of golden skin for Harry to see. And touch. He wanted - needed - to touch. He trailed his eyes along Zayn’s tattoos, more planned and cohesive that Harry’s were but then Harry’s gaze dropped and he nearly choked. Zayn was thick and hard, cock dripping with precome as he slowly stroked himself. Using sure fingers, he rolled a condom on and Harry felt his mouth water as he stared at Zayn. Harry was definitely longer but he thought Zayn might be thicker and he couldn’t wait to get his mouth on him. He reached out for him, trying to grab at Zayn’s waist and get him closer but Zayn was having none of it, batting him away. He kneeled in front of Harry, spreading his legs open as he fumbled for the lube.

“Look at me.” Zayn ordered and Harry went rigid, spine tensed as he stared up at Zayn. He maneuvered in between Harry’s legs, pushing them apart until he was brushing against Harry’s hole. He made sure Harry was staring as he popped open the bottle of lube and drizzled it along his length before pressing forward.

Harry closed his eyes, opening his legs wider as he felt the head of Zayn’s cock pushing slowly into him. Harry wiggled, hissing slightly at the pressure as Zayn mumbled how tight he was, how beautiful he looked and how well he was taking his cock. It felt like ages before Zayn was fully seated.

Harry moaned lowly as Zayn leaned forward, arms taunt and shaking as he hovered above him. He ducked down, pressing his lips to Harry’s as he stayed still. “You okay?” It was surprisingly soft and sweet, the way Zayn asked, dropping down on one arm so the other could bury itself in Harry’s hair.

“Good, ‘m good. Jus - just stay still for a minute.” Zayn ran his thumb along Harry’s jaw, kissing him gently until Harry felt the pain subside and he pushed forward testingly. “Kay - move.”

Once Harry gave the go ahead, Zayn wasn’t gentle anymore - thrusting in quick and hard, fingers gripping Harry’s hip tightly as he fucked into him. Harry hooked his legs around Zayn’s waist, pulling him in tighter as he reached up to claw at Zayn’s back.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, pet.” Zayn moaned and Harry couldn’t focus on anything but him moving above him, dark hair hanging in his face so that he only caught flashes of golden eyes. Harry thought he might come just like this, just from Zayn moving inside him, staring down at him and grunting about how good he was and how perfect he felt. But then Zayn was worming his hand between them, grabbing Harry’s cock tightly. It only took one-two-three strokes before Harry was spilling over Zayn’s hand with a gargled note stuck in his throat. Zayn managed two more hard thrusts then he was collapsing onto Harry’s body, jerking his hips as he choked on a moan.

They lay there in silence for a long moment, Zayn still pulsing inside Harry and Harry’s come cooling between them. Harry breathed in the smell of Zayn’s hair, let himself savor this bliss for a few minutes as he rested his hand against the back of Zayn’s neck.

Finally Zayn pulled out slowly, Harry wincing at the sudden loss as Zayn flopped onto his back. Harry wanted to curl up into his side, wanted Zayn to be the big spoon and hold him close even though this bed could fit four people. But it was _just sex just sex just sex_ , he told himself.

“Mmm, gross.” Zayn mumbled, eyes trailing down to Harry’s stomach as he peeled the condom off and threw it towards the bin. He leaned up on his elbow, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek then rolling off the bed.

Was he supposed to leave now? Get his clothes and take a car back to his tiny shared room as he tried to ignore the bruises that Zayn had left all over him. Harry sat up, rubbing at his face tiredly. He looked down at his chest, making a face and trying to get the energy to get up and get something to clean himself with. Before he could move, Zayn was padding back into the room, wet flannel in his hand and his lips turned up in a little smile.

“Lay back.” Zayn said softly and Harry happily flopped back because Zayn was being gentle, Zayn wasn’t kicking him out. He carefully brushed at Harry’s abs, cleaning him up slowly before dropping the flannel to the ground. Zayn pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s bruised lips, running his thumb along his neck slowly, eyes serious and soft as he looked at him. “You okay, pretty boy?”

“Yeah…” Harry started slowly, dropping his stare. It felt like his heart might blow straight out of his chest. All he could focus on was Zayn’s gentle touches. “I can go?”

Zayn frowned. “I mean - you can? If you want to. But...well, it’s still early and I called for room service because you didn’t eat much tonight so I thought we could have it up on the roof.”

“Wait, there’s a roof?” Harry asked, sitting up so quickly he nearly punched Zayn in the dick. Zayn wanted him to stay. Zayn was being sweet and kind and calling him things like ‘pet’ and not kicking him out.

“Easy.” Zayn chuckled, staring at Harry who was bouncing in excitement.

“Do we have to wear clothes?”

“Yes, pet. We have to wear clothes - but maybe just robes. It’s private, like. They’ll set it up for us and everything.”

“Can we go up now?” Harry was suddenly wide awake and Zayn was smiling a little indulgent sort of smile and Harry thought it was more beautiful than any other face he’d made before.

“Whatever you want, Harry.”

Harry fumbled with the tie of the fluffy white hotel robe, tucking his face against the collar of it as he stared out at the skyline.

They’d made their way slowly up the steps to the roof, giggling into each other’s mouths as they went. When they got upstairs, they settled in separate seats, Zayn pulling out a cigarette from somewhere in the depths of his robe pocket. Harry didn’t mention his asthma, not wanting to ruin the picture-perfect view of Zayn utterly debauched from fucking Harry with smoke curling around his face, lit only by the soft glow of the city lights. The hotel’s valet arrived within minutes, a small army of people bustling around, lighting candles and setting a platter of food down on the table along with a bottle of champagne and a tumbler of whiskey before melting into the night.

“Champagne, pet?”

Harry flushed, watching as Zayn pressed his lips around the cigarette to use both hands. He poured himself a glass of whiskey first, setting it down on the table in front of them.

“Sure. Please.”

“You like this kind, right babes?”

“Oh - uh, yeah.” Harry answered though it sounded more like a question as he stared at the label. Truth be told, tonight was really the first night he’d had such good champagne. The usual stuff he drank tasted like piss.

Harry thought he saw Zayn flush a bit as he fumbled for the bottle. “I just - you were drinking it tonight.”

“Yeah, well - it was free. I mean, I usually just drink whatever is offered. No real preference. But I like the bubbles.” He offered lamely, not wanting Zayn to think he was ungrateful.

Zayn offered Harry the glass but when he went to take it he didn’t let go, tugging until Harry was pitching forward into Zayn’s side with a laugh.

“You were too far away.” Zayn mumbled, face tucked into Harry’s neck. Harry flailed around until he could slide into Zayn’s lap. Harry had to agree, if he wasn’t on top of Zayn, it was definitely too far away.

“So what’s your drink?”

“Johnny Walker Gold - it used to be just whatever they gave me but” he paused with a shrug, lips wrapping around the edge of the glass in such a way that Harry got distracted. “Well, you win a Grammy or two and they start to give you the good stuff.”

“I don’t think I’ll be winning a Grammy.” Harry wrinkled his nose as he looked at Zayn’s glass. “It’s a good thing too - I don’t like whiskey.”

“No?” Zayn smirked as he carefully set his glass down then his lips were on Harry’s, dipping slowly into his mouth so Harry could taste the hint of whiskey on his lips. Zayn stroked his tongue slowly against Harry’s, licking along the inside of his mouth before pulling back. “What about now? You still hate whiskey?”

“Dunno…” Harry pulled back only to lean forward and steal little kisses as he went. “May have to keep trying it, see if it grows on me or not.”

Zayn smiled, eyes closed for a long beat before he opened them to catch Harry’s stare before leaning forward to steal his own kiss. “Yeah, think you should.”

 

 

_**June 2018** _

 

 

 

“Can you just sit down?” Zayn gave a sigh like _Harry_ was the one that was being a pain in the ass.

“Fine.” He answered stiffly, stepping around the table to sit across from him.

“Do you want a glass?” Zayn nodded towards the bottle but Harry shook his head.

“No - I’m not doing this Zayn. I’m not going to sit here with you like we just got finished fucking. We’re not doing this again. What do you want?”

“I - I just wanted to talk to you.” Zayn said softly, dropping his gaze from Harry’s. “I - just well, you seem to be doing well. _Really_ well. You looked amazing in that Versace campaign.”

Harry hated that he wanted to smile at that, hated that Zayn was still following his career.

“Yeah - well, Gigi was a great person to shoot with. I believe you’re familiar with her work too.” Harry hissed icily.

Zayn winced. “You know that was bullshit.”

“Do I?” Harry arched an eyebrow. Because the truth was, he didn’t really know anything when it came to Zayn. Everything he’d thought about their relationship had proved to be wrong.

Zayn dropped his head to his hands, rubbing tiredly at his temples. Harry stared at him, feeling himself soften at just the sight of Zayn’s weariness. Harry wasn’t immune to following Zayn Malik and his career so he knew that he’d just wrapped up a tour. It was strange he was even in Paris right now instead of hidden away on a beach somewhere so that he could unwind away from prying eyes.

“Just...can you have a drink? Relax a bit? I know - ” he bit down on his lip, looking young and unsure as he stared at Harry. “Like, I know we’re not anything but I think...well I think there’s stuff we need to talk about. And - ” Zayn drew in a sharp breath like he was bracing himself, staring up at Harry through his lashes with that intense look he used to get sometimes. The look that seemed to say things in a language that Harry never quite understood but desperately wanted to. “I think I’m still in love with you.”

 

 

 

_**November 2016** _

 

 

 

“What’s wrong, pet?” Zayn asked as his fingers trailed up and down Harry’s spine. He shivered, moving closer to Zayn so he was half on Zayn’s sunbed and half on his own.

Harry had been replaying the fight with Liam in his head since it had happened, even with the distraction of Zayn in front of him. All he could hear echoing in his skull was _he doesn’t love you, he’s using you, doesn’t love you, using you_.

“‘M fine. Just sleepy is all.”

Harry burrowed his face in Zayn’s neck, inhaling the slightly sweaty scent of him, licking out gently to catch a drop of sweat rolling down his collarbone. He smiled when he felt Zayn shiver and tighten his grip on Harry. They were floating in the middle of the sea somewhere, Harry having arrived two days ago in Barcelona before he was being shuttled to the docks to board an obscenely large yacht where Zayn was hiding in one of the cabins.

Zayn carded his fingers through Harry’s hair and he felt himself purring at the attention. “How’re you sleepy? We’ve been laying on a boat for two days.” Zayn teased as Harry pressed soft kisses along his collarbone.

Harry bit down, smirking when Zayn hissed at the attention. “Just been booked a lot is all. I mean, it’s good but exhausting.”

Harry felt Zayn tense. Harry squeezed Zayn’s waist tightly, trying to draw some of that rigidness out of him.

“You have been working a lot. See you everywhere now.”

“Not as much as I see you.” Harry smiled against Zayn’s warm skin, tilting his head up to catch his stare. But Zayn was looking out at the blue water stretched in front of them, a little frown pulling at his pink lips.

“Yeah…” Zayn trailed off, sounding a little unsure.

Harry hated that tone, hated that Zayn sounded anything less than relaxed and happy. So he did what he did best and threw his leg over Zayn’s waist so he could clamor into his lap. Zayn caught him with a little oomph. He stared up at Harry a little unsurely, like he didn’t quite understand what Harry was doing. Harry just stared back, drinking in the softness of his features, the thick scruff growing along his jaw and the long dark strands falling into his eyes catching in his lashes.

He ran his finger along Zayn’s chest, tracing over the lips tattooed against his sternum. He leaned down to press his lips against the outline, relishing in the sharp intake of breath and the way Zayn finally seemed to melt as Harry moved down his body.

“I think I have the perfect way to energize me…” Harry purred, pressing open mouthed kisses as he wiggled down Zayn’s body. Zayn caught his fingers in Harry’s hair, tugging slightly as Harry kept moving.

“Harry,” Zayn warned, voice cracking slightly as Harry kept moving. Harry ignored him, running his fingers along the edge of Zayn’s shorts, tugging at the button as he went. “We - ahhh - we can’t. Not out here.”

Harry drew back so that he could catch Zayn’s eye, smirking as he kept playing with Zayn’s fly. He jutted his lower lip out, staring up at him and blinking slowly like he knew Zayn liked. “You’ll just have to be a little quieter than usual. And I’ll have to be quick.”

Zayn whimpered as Harry wrapped a hand around him, glancing down to focus on how he was already half-hard and leaking.

“Harry, no - _nghhh_ ” Zayn cut off with a whimper and groan as Harry swallowed him down, hollowing his cheeks and feeling Zayn bump against his throat. “ _Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop_ ” Zayn slurred out and Harry smiled around him, lips tight as he drew up to trail his tongue along Zayn’s slit, gathering the pearls of precome on his tongue before he pulled back to press a soft kiss to the head.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” Harry whispered, smirking as he saw Zayn’s eyes darken before he was dropping his head against the lounger and bucking up against Harry, whimpering and gasping out Harry’s name. As Harry paid special attention to getting Zayn off as quickly as possible, all he could think about was the way Zayn whimpered his name, how his fingers were tangled in Harry’s hair, and the needy gasps he choked on. Because maybe Zayn hadn’t ever told Harry he loved him but Harry had this, he had every inch of Zayn that he would give him and Harry would be damned if he’d ever let Zayn forget him.

\---

“Wait, really?? St. Laurent?”

“ _Yes, Harry._ ” Liam sighed into the phone, sounding no where near as happy as Harry would have liked him to sound whilst delivering the best news of Harry’s career to him. “ _Despite you doing your damndest to derail your own career over a boy, you are now the face of Laurent._ ”

Harry ignored the jab, rolling onto his back and squealing in delight. “Ah, thank you thank you thank you. Honestly, Lima-bean, you’re the best agent a boy could ever have.”

“ _Yeah, yeah._ ” Liam sighed but Harry swore he was smiling through it. “ _Just don’t fuck it up by running off to your boy when you have a shoot._ ”

Harry stuck his tongue out even though Liam wouldn’t see it just as Zayn sauntered back into the room, towel tied around his waist and his hair dripping down his skin. Harry immediately lost focus on whatever Liam was saying, licking his lips as Zayn walked around the room, looking for clothes to throw on. They’d just docked in Majorca because Harry had mentioned offhand a restaurant he’d heard about in Cala d'Or and in typical Zayn fashion, he’d found the place and reserved the nicest table for them.

“Don’t be rude, Li. I’ve gotta go - ”

“ _I’m sure you don’t_.” Liam said on a long suffering sigh. “ _’m proud of you Haz, I’ll see you in a few days._ ”

Harry chirped his own goodbyes, albeit they were distracted as Zayn tugged on a pair of jeans, leaving them unbuttoned as he searched for a shirt. When the call finally ended, Harry was up and out of the bed, latching onto Zayn.

Zayn giggled, that silly little giggle that he never gave in public - that Harry liked to think was reserved for him. He felt like his heart might explode with how happy he was being with Zayn _and_ having every career dream come true. But it was Zayn, mostly Zayn. Beautiful, sweet and a little bit silly Zayn who let Harry ramble about things like India and China producing the most bananas when you’d think it was somewhere in South America, or how he thought aliens were probably just misunderstood and that’s why they hadn’t approached humans just yet. He indulged Harry, stroked his curls when he was sleepy, and held him like he was breakable even after Zayn left Harry bruised and spent.

Harry was stupidly in love with Zayn Malik and he refused to think that Zayn didn’t love him too. He had to, he just had to.

“Hiiii, pet. Good news?”

“The best news, Zaynie! The best!”

Zayn pulled back, brushing Harry’s hair off his face and pressing a quick kiss to his nose. “Yeah?”

“M gonna be the face of Laurent!”

Something dark flashed across Zayn’s face but in an instant it was gone, replaced with a soft smile as Zayn tugged at a stray curl. “Well you already own half their line, might as well.”

Harry beamed, basking in the warmth of Zayn’s smile and the way his thumb was brushing along his hipbone. Harry tucked his face against Zayn’s neck. He clung tightly to Zayn, squeezing him against him as he mumbled happy words against his warm skin.

When he managed to pull away he bounced over to his open bag and started to pull clothes out to get ready for tonight. “I should probably wear Laurent now, just because it’s exciting and I want to celebrate.” Harry started to ramble, feeling a little drunk on excitement and the thought of celebrating with Zayn tonight, thinking maybe tonight he’d tell Zayn that he loved him, tonight he’d tell Zayn how he thought Harry could be the only one for him. “Liam didn’t think I was focusing, told me how bad you were for me but I _told_ him you were good for me.”

Harry pulled two nearly identical shirts out of his bag, frowning as he tried to decide which one before he turned around to face Zayn and make him choose. He jumped a little when he noticed Zayn staring at him with narrowed eyes, like he was trying to solve a problem.

“Good for you?” Zayn asked, voice flat and emotionless.

Harry frowned at the tone, tilting his head to the side as he looked at him. He stared at Zayn, thinking okay - maybe this is when he tells Zayn he loves him. Harry didn’t think he could wait anymore. Then maybe they’d just skip dinner. Harry didn’t really want to go now, not when walking outside with Zayn usually meant security and crowds and flashing lights. Harry still wasn’t used to it, even though he very rarely appeared with Zayn. There were some dinners, a few nights at clubs, a number of tour visits - enough that it had gotten the papers speculating. “Well, yeah. I mean - you just, you’re good for me, ya know?”

Because how didn’t Zayn see that? How didn’t he know how gone for him Harry was - how Harry ached for Zayn when they were apart and how Harry would give him his heart, just carve it right out of his chest and serve it to him on a platter if that’s what he wanted.

“I see.” Zayn gritted out. His back was ramrod straight and he was clenching his fists at his side. “Stupid - christ, I’m so fucking stupid.” He mumbled, taking a step away when Harry tried to walk forward.

“Zaynie? Wh - what’s wro - ”

“I think maybe we shouldn’t go to dinner tonight.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. Good - they could eat dinner here instead, on the deck like they had for the last couple of nights. It would be just the two of them under the stars, and Harry would be able to get up the nerve to tell Zayn how he felt, and make sure that Zayn felt the same way. Harry’s head had already gone to fantasies of the two of them curled up when the sun went down, staring at the stars while Zayn played with the ends of Harry’s hair and gave him those soft little kisses he sometimes pressed to Harry’s forehead when the floor dropped out below him.

“I think you should go.”

Harry stumbled forward. He’d been moving towards Zayn but Zayn kept his distance, stepping back for every step Harry took. Zayn’s face was twisted and cold, staring at Harry like he was a stranger or one of those crazed fans that would sometimes approach them when they were trying to eat.

“Wha - ?” Harry tried not to let his voice shake or his face crumple but he’d always worn his heart on his sleeve. “What do you mean?”

“Go.” Zayn said firmly before stalking over to Harry’s bag and starting to throw his clothes in it. “You’re - you’ve got what you want, yeah? I’m - just, why bother anymore.”

Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat, frozen as he watched Zayn pace back and forth before he was flinging the door open to yell for one of the boat employees. As they had through their time, one appeared immediately. Harry could only catch every few words but he heard the words ‘flight’ and ‘leaving’ and ‘cancelled’ and he started to panic.

“Zayn?” Harry started in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“You need to go, that’s what.” Zayn answered evenly. His eyes were black and for once it wasn’t lust, his face blank and his lips pressed together in a thin line.

Harry started to stutter, arms flailing helplessly at his side. “Go? Why? What did I do?”

“Nothing - you did nothing. I’m a fucking idiot, that’s all.”

“You’re not.” Harry protested even though he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what Zayn was talking about, just wanted him to be smiling again and tugging at his curls, not being this mean Zayn that he’d never seen before. “Just...I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. With you.”

Zayn just snorted. “I’m sure you do. Don’t worry - I’m not going to bill you for any of this. Just - Christ, Harry - just get the fuck out. I can’t do this anymore.”

And with that final parting shot, Zayn spun on his heel and slid out the door leaving Harry to try to figure out how what the hell had just happened and why his heart was suddenly splattered across the wall.

 

 

 

_**June 2018** _

 

 

 

Harry’s hand shook as he stared across the table at Zayn.

“You...what?”

Zayn smiled, that small little one that he used to give Harry when he’d say something truly absurd or he would be awed by the smallest gift that Zayn gave him.

“I’m still in love with you. I - I mean I tried to not be. But well, yeah.”

Harry just stared at Zayn, narrowing his eyes as he glared. “You’re _what_?”

Zayn faltered, dropping Harry’s stare for the first time since he’d spoken. “Just - you knew that. You knew how gone I was for you. And I tried to stay away because...well because you just weren’t. But I think you might be able to love me? If I - like if I treat you how I should have.”

Harry snorted, embarrassed once again when he realized he was seconds away from tears. “Zayn - what the _fuck_?”

Zayn tensed, staring at his hands that were clenched tightly in his lap. “I knew it was a long shot. But...I just miss you?”

“No - fuck you. You don’t get to do this to me.” Harry felt himself losing it, voice going high and a bit hysterical. “You don’t get to shatter my heart and kick me to the kerb with no explanation. No, I’m not doing this again. I won’t - I won’t give you everything only for you to throw it all away again.”

“Harry, I - ” Zayn stood when Harry did, reaching for him with a startled look on his face. Like this wasn’t expected, like this was a surprise that Harry was broken and it was Zayn’s fault. “Please,” he was begging and it was everything Harry had ever wanted, “Please just I think you could love me. I won - ”

“ _‘Think_ ’ I could love you? You ‘ _know_ ’ I wasn’t before? What is _wrong_ with you?” Harry seethed, stumbling as he tried to get around the table and out of Zayn’s sight. The fact that he was standing in front of Harry, suggesting that Harry had ever not loved him was laughable. Unfortunately, due to Harry’s ineptitude at mobility he nearly pitched forward down the steps and would have brained himself if Zayn hadn’t been right behind him to snatch at his arm to steady him.

“Could you wait? We’ve never talked this out properly.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Harry mocked, ignoring how his arm felt on fire from Zayn’s touch. “You never said a word to me. Just - I’m sorry Zayn. It’s not enough; I don’t believe you.”

Harry wrenched out of Zayn’s grip as he practically stumbled down the steps and made his way across the suite. He was a fool to come here, a fool to reopen old wounds. It had nearly destroyed him last time, Zayn dropping him without an explanation. And then everything that had come after that. He just - Harry couldn’t do it again.

He thought Zayn had finally gotten the point, had gotten whatever he’d hoped to prove out of the way but Harry was wrong because just as Harry’s hand closed around the door handle and pulled it open an inch, it was being slammed shut with an all too familiar mandala cutting him off. And in the next second Harry’s back was against the door and Zayn was licking into his mouth like he still owned it.

 

 

 

_**February 2017** _

 

 

 

Harry was drunk. Miserably and pathetically drunk.

He’d known it was a mistake to accept the invitation to the Grammy’s after party. He’d known he shouldn’t be leading the bubblegum pop star he’d been sleeping with on. But _Zayn_ was up for an award; _Zayn_ was swanning around LA with a model - a model that was decidedly _not_ Harry (and decidedly not even male). So Harry had said yes, yes to the silly blonde boy that had been following him around like a puppy. The irony wasn’t lost on Harry that he was doing to Benson what Zayn had done to him.

“Haaaaaz.” a voice whined in Harry’s ear then a body was draped around him and lips were pressed against his neck. “‘M drunk and think we should go back to mine.”

Harry tried not to pull away because just as he was about to roll his eyes and push Benson off of him, Harry glanced up to see Zayn strolling into Elyx House with Gigi fucking Hadid on his arm. Harry swallowed hard, trying to swallow down the bile that rose up in his throat at the sight of Zayn with someone-not-Harry.

Harry forced himself to push his hands through Benson’s blonde hair, pushing the locks off his face and staring into blue eyes, trying to ignore the ache over them not being the color of caramel and gold.

“Let’s stay a bit, do some celebrating?” Harry cooed, leaning forward to press his lips to Benson’s as he kept one eye open. He tried not to give a smug smile when he saw Zayn notice him, Zayn’s eyes narrowing briefly before he turned to Gigi.

Benson agreed happily, still pawing at the front of Harry’s suit but he was no longer whining about leaving. Harry leaned back in the booth, forcing himself to keep his arm around Benson, twirling a finger through his hair and obliging whenever he leaned in for a kiss. To the outward eye, one would think Harry was perfectly content with his new beau, attentive and charming to a fault. But in reality, Harry had one eye on Benson and the other tracking Zayn’s movements throughout the party.

He’d shaved his head right after they’d ended (Harry couldn’t even call it a breakup because Liam was constantly telling him they’d never even been together) and Harry could just spot the hint of fantail peeking up behind his collar. He was dressed in a fitted navy suit, shirt buttoned to his neck with a slim tie. He looked like he could have been the CEO of Fortune 500 company instead of the artist that had just swept up four more Grammy’s. Harry couldn’t help staring at the perfect line of his jaw, accentuated by his perfectly trimmed scruff and how the light kept hitting the small diamond stud in his ear, an earring that Harry had loved to pull on with his teeth.

Harry tried not to stare, tried to focus on Benson and the way he squirmed in his lap and how he had someone that was openly affectionate and openly wanted him. A person that didn’t treat Harry like he was a dirty little secret that needed to be hidden away and only taken out when absolutely necessary.

But as nice as it was to have this boy fully focused on Harry, someone that seemed to genuinely want him in private _and_ public, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t Zayn, it wasn’t the intense way he’d stare at Harry when he spoke, that fond look in his eye when Harry got a little too ridiculous. As much as Harry tried to ignore it, Benson didn’t make him feel anything - the sex was fine but that was all it was. He liked having someone that wanted him, seemed to need him like air because that’s how Harry had been with Zayn. But this was safer; smarter.

“Push it, babe.” Harry muttered some time later. “I’ve got to wee.”

“Could join you?” Benson blinked slowly at him, biting on his lip as he grabbed for Harry again.

But Harry was so so tired, he’d been watching Zayn laugh and pull Gigi into his body like he’d never really done with Harry and it was crushing him. He wanted to leave, get away from everyone and everything.

“No, just - gimme a mo. Then we can leave.” Harry managed to say with some approximation of a smile. Benson twined this fingers in Harry’s hair to pull him down for a kiss that Harry only half-heartedly returned.

Once he managed to extract himself from Benson’s grip, he slowly stumbled across the room determinedly ignoring Zayn in his periphery. A few people stopped him as he walked by but Harry kept it brief until he finally reached the toilets. He pushed into the single bathroom, locking the door behind him as he went. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Harry had known this would happen; knew when he accepted the invitation that he’d see Zayn. He just hadn’t fully prepared himself for what that would feel like.

It had taken Zayn ripping his very heart out of his chest for Harry to realize how well and truly fucked he was for him. He’d known that he was in love with Zayn, known by the way he could just sit still with him, counting his lashes and hanging on his every word. He had known by the way he’d have given up everything for him but he hadn’t ever imagined the pain of being without Zayn.

Harry was staring in the mirror, washing his hands and trying not sigh at the deep purple bags under his eyes and the sad downturn of his own lips.

“Pathetic,” he mumbled at his own reflection as he tried to ignore the insistent knocking on the bathroom door. Zayn was over him, he was in love with someone else and showering her with attention and affection and having her star in music videos. Harry needed to get over it - “Jesus, give me one minute!”

He cut off his own thoughts to yell at whoever was pounding at the door. There were at least three other toilets. He just needed a second to breathe away from that room where he felt like he was suffocating, like Zayn was sucking all the oxygen out of the space just by being there.

But the knocking continued. Harry scowled, wiping his hands on his perfectly pressed St Laurent trousers before moving towards the door. He flung it open, prepared to sling a sly insult that whoever had been so hell bent on getting in but whatever he wanted to say died on his lips as he was shoved back into the small room and pushed against the closed door.

“Benson Masters, Harry? Really?” Zayn mocked, hands pressed to the door so he had Harry trapped.

Harry snarled, trying to ignore the way his heart was pounding and his chest felt like it was going to sink in just because Zayn was looking at him again, just because Zayn was pressed up against him so that Harry could feel the energy thrumming through him.

“What’s it to _you_?”

“Makes sense.” Zayn continued in that taunting tone that felt like a razor slicing against Harry’s heart. “Have to stay in the headlines somehow, yeah?”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks.” Zayn mocked, voice laced with unbridled anger.

Harry pushed back at Zayn, pressing his palms flat against his chest so he could shove him away. “Then why’re you here, Zaynie? Been following who I’m fucking since you dropped me?”

Zayn barely budged, eyes narrowed to golden slits. “Not hard to do, you don’t do anything by half with him. Tour dates, New Years on a yacht, dinners at Nobu and nights out at The Nice Guy. You’re not exactly discreet.”

“And you’re any better?” Harry tried to push through the shock that Zayn had been watching from afar. It was what he’d hoped, of course, thought about for every flashing light and uncomfortable moment in the spotlight with Benson that Zayn was watching and wishing it was him. But he’d never imagined that Zayn had seen it all, he’d assumed it would all be wasted because Zayn didn’t care about the fame (probably partially what made him so famous in the first place). “Got yourself a perfect little girlfriend now, huh? Not so different from any other big artist - fucking a leggy blonde and having her star in your videos.”

“At least she can walk in a straight line without tripping.” Zayn spit, handsome face twisted in an angry mask like _Harry_ was the one that had ruined things, like it was _Harry_ that had broken Zayn’s heart and not the other way around. “At least she’s famous in her own right.”

Harry saw red at his final words, shoving him hard until he was pushing him back against the opposite wall, Zayn slamming into it so hard his head smacked against the wall. Zayn was gripping Harry’s hips tightly, fingers pressing into the softer flesh that Harry had always hated but Zayn had seemed to love.

“Yeah, famous for her family. Now she’s famous for fucking you.”

“Jealous, babe?” Zayn taunted. “Jealous she’s the one in my bed now?”

Harry swallowed, feeling his blood thrumming and humming in his ear, just the thought of someone else touching Zayn made his heart shrivel. But he couldn’t let Zayn know that, couldn’t let him know how much it hurt. So he leaned forward, enjoying the sharp breath Zayn inhaled as Harry pushed his lips against the shell of his ear, “Not jealous. I’m sorry you’re not happy, sorry you’re missing me so bad you have to follow my every move.”

“Arrogant prick - you think I miss you? Think I miss your lanky frame and the way you can’t stay on two feet?”

Harry chuckled, pressing his body against Zayn’s and grinning when he heard the little gasp Zayn tried to hide. “Oh, I think you miss everything about my body. Miss how tight I am and how good I take your cock.”

Zayn could protest all he wanted but the way his eyes were blown back as Harry glared down at him and the way Zayn was pushing into Harry, already half hard and throbbing meant that every word Harry said was true. So Harry didn’t think when he trailed his fingers down Zayn’s side so he could yank his crisp white shirt out from his trousers. He didn’t think when his fingers brushed at his fly, he didn’t think when he yanked that down too as he fell to his knees painfully.

Harry paused, licking his lips at the sight of Zayn’s cock pushing through the thin fabric of his pants. His grip tightened on the backs of his thighs, mouth watering at sight of something he’d so desperately missed. He pressed his face against Zayn’s front, mouthing wetly along the obscene line and the heat rolling off of him. Zayn whined above him, fingers tangling in Harry’s curls. He tugged until Harry was forced to look up.

“Come’on, Harry.” Zayn was moaning already, hips bucking forward.

“What, Zayn? What do you want?”

“You.” He moaned and Harry hated the way it sounded like a prayer. “Want you - want your mouth.”

Harry was in no position to argue so he pulled at Zayn’s pants, moaning as his cock smacked him in the face. Harry thumbed at the head, brushing over the sensitive slit before swallowing him down. He ignored the thud of Zayn’s head dropping against the wall and focused on pulling him in tighter, not bothering to go slow as Zayn’s cock bumped against the back of his throat.

He pulled off with a slurp, ignoring the groan of protest from above. Zayn dropped one hand to Harry’s face, swiping along his lower lip before muttering. “You look so good. Always so good when you’re wrapped around me.”

“Want you” Harry gulped, pausing to press a small kiss to the head, staring at Zayn’s cock hungrily. “Want you to fuck my face.” He’d missed the thickness of him, the way Zayn had stretched his mouth until the corners of his lips hurt. He missed the thick vein that ran along the underside and how it throbbed and pulsed against his tongue.

Zayn hissed before drawing back slightly so that Harry could open his mouth and then Zayn was pushing forward hard and fast. Harry stayed still, let Zayn hold tight to his hair as he thrust forward, cock bumping the back of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard and humming at the salty taste of Zayn. He could tell Zayn wouldn’t last long, tell by the way he was already leaking into his mouth and the way his balls tightened as Harry unclenched one hand from around his hip to squeeze at him. And he was right because it only took Harry swirling his tongue along the head then choking slightly when Zayn held onto the back of his head, pushing into him until Harry’s nose was buried in the short hair at the base of his cock and then Zayn was shooting white streams down his throat. Harry swallowed eagerly, not stopping when he felt his own come stain the inside of his trousers as he came just from the pleased whine that Zayn whimpered out.

Harry pulled off with a wet pop, wiping at his lip to catch the bit of come that he hadn’t swallowed. He stared up at Zayn, hating how he was suddenly brushing his hand softly through Harry’s curls and looking at him like he was fragile.

Harry fell back on his ass, ignoring the sharp pain as he scrambled to get away from Zayn. Zayn who was still struggling to catch his breath, Zayn who was leaning against the wall like his knees might give out with his trousers down at his ankles and his pants stuck around his thighs, his prick still throbbing.

“I - ” Harry started, tried to come up with something to say. “I hope you got what you came for, Zayn.” He finally said bitterly. “Proved that I’ll still jump when you say go. I hope you’re happy.” He got to his feet finally, brushing his sweaty palms against his front, ignoring the ache in the pit of his stomach. Zayn opened his mouth to respond but Harry held up a hand. “Don’t bother - just, don’t fucking talk to me again. You wanted us over. We’re over.”

And then Harry turned and fled, flinging the door of the toilet open and slamming it with a final glare at the way Zayn was frozen, one hand stretching out like he was reaching for Harry, like he didn’t want him to go, like he might still want him.

 

 

 

_**June 2018** _

 

 

 

Harry sank into the kiss, fell limp and boneless like he always did in Zayn’s arms. But only for a moment, he only let himself linger with Zayn’s lips against his, tongue curling into his mouth as Zayn tugged at his hair impatiently. And then he wrenched away, shoving Zayn back as hard as he could.

“ _No_. No, Zayn - we’re not doing this. I’m - I’m not just some hole you can use when you’re lonely or whatever is going on in your life now. I’m worth more than that.”

Zayn stared at him in horror, mouth dropped open as he clutched at the front of Harry’s shirt tightly. “That’s - Harry, no. That isn’t what this is; not what you are. I just...I can’t let you go again.”

“And whose fault is that?” Harry roared, trying to wriggle free from Zayn’s grip but failing. “You ended it, Zayn. You did this, you did this to us. We aren’t a thing anymore; we barely were in the first place. And for you to say you loved me like I wouldn’t have given you everything - like I _still_ wouldn’t hand you the world...I just - I can’t do this.” He ended in a small voice.

“Please.” Zayn whispered, loosening his grip but not letting go. “Please let me explain. I can’t let you walk out thinking I wouldn’t give you everything too. I can’t let you think you’re not everything to me.”

Harry couldn’t ignore the pain in Zayn’s voice, couldn’t ignore the sincerity laced in every word he spoke. It was too much like a dream, Harry knew that. But...there wasn’t a universe in existence that Harry could ever say no to Zayn Malik in. So he gave a short nod, let Zayn lead him back upstairs. Back to where they started.

\---

Harry sat quietly next to Zayn this time, not bothering with using a table to separate them. It wasn’t worth it when Harry knew that nothing like a pesky table could ever stop them. This time he accepted the offer of a drink, opting for a healthy pour of whiskey instead of the champagne.

“Didn’t think you’d ever like whiskey.” Zayn commented, brow furrowed as he focused on pouring Harry’s drink.

Harry shrugged, deciding brutal honesty was all he had left. “Started to drink it after - well, after we ended. It reminded me of you.”

Zayn’s hand shook slightly but he gave a short nod before he handed over the glass, fingertips brushing against the back of Harry’s hand as he did. Once they both had full drinks, they each took long sips, neither of them willing to break the silence just yet.

Finally Zayn sighed, setting his drink on the table and turning his body towards Harry.

“I guess - well, I guess I should start with why...well, why I ended it.” Zayn’s voice was small and tentative.

“That would be lovely.” Harry returned icily. Just because he said he’d hear Zayn out didn’t mean he needed to be nice about it.

Harry stared at Zayn, keeping his face blank and serious. He had spent hours and days and weeks wondering why Zayn had ended it so abruptly, why they had gone from whatever they were to strangers. The hurt of it still throbbed like a deep bruise ringed around his heart. When he wanted to torture himself he thought of that day - sitting at the airport in Majorca, crying into his shirt until the thin material was soaked and his eyes were puffy. He thought about how he’d barely made it home before he’d _really_ broken down, shutting himself up in his LA apartment, not even letting Liam in until he’d broken down the door to get in. It had taken weeks before he’d felt human, weeks before he’d been able to do anything but cry into the pillow that he’d sprayed with Zayn’s cologne.

As much as he wanted to know...he was terrified of the truth.

“You - _fuck_ this is hard.” Zayn scrubbed his hand against his face with a short laugh.

Harry offered a wry smile and a shrug, “No worse that it will be for me to hear it.”

“Harry...you have no idea what you were - _are_ \- to me.”

“Because you never said anything, Zayn. You never focused on anything more than my body and fucking me and just...sometimes you wouldn’t call for weeks. And you were always with other people. It just - did you ever wonder how that made me feel?”

“I know how it looked. I know how awful I was but...you don’t understand what I thought. Or how I felt.”

“So tell me! Just - Christ, Zayn - for once open your mouth and tell me the truth. I would have - I would have given you everything if I thought you’d have taken it. If I thought I had meant more. I - I almost told you, that last night. Told you I loved you.”

Zayn stared at him with wide eyes, cheeks flushed as he blinked slowly. When he spoke his voice quivered, “Loved?”

Harry snorted, brushing at the tears that were doing more than just threatening. “How didn’t you see it? I chased you all around the world. I missed shows to go to you when you called. I would have thrown myself off a cliff if you’d asked me to.”

“But...loved?”

“Yes, Zayn - loved.” Harry answered with a sigh. “I took what you gave me. And usually that was enough.”

“How could you not know you were what I wanted? What I _still_ want?” Zayn argued and Harry wanted to shake him. He was making it sound like Harry was the one that had messed things up, Harry was the one that hadn’t wanted him.

“Because you’ve never said otherwise!” Harry cried out, tugging at his hair in frustration.

“Fuck,” Zayn whispered, dropping his stare from Harry’s for the first time since they’d sat down.

“This - I’m sorry, I can’t do this. I really...I’m over it. I got over it, over you.” Harry added for good measure, moving to stand. “I forgive you. For whatever it is you feel like you need to be apologizing for. It’s over, it’s in the past now.”

Zayn looked panicked, eyes widening like those stupid anime cartoons he’d forced Harry to watch, filling his face as he blinked up at him rapidly. He grabbed for Harry’s hand, tugging as Harry tried to move away. “Wait, _no no no_. This - this isn’t over, it can’t be. You can’t just walk out before I can explain. Before I tell you everything. You just - you have to listen to me, please, pet. Please.”

“Don - don’t call me that.” Harry’s voice cracked. That - that little name for Harry, the way it used to slip out of Zayn’s lips so easily and fondly - that hurt the most.

“You can’t be over me. This can’t be over.”

“Then how come it is?” Harry replied softly, sadly.

He gently unwound his hand from Zayn’s, brushing again at the tears leaking out of his eyes. He couldn’t do this again, couldn’t fall into Zayn’s orbit and risk destroying himself again. He’d barely made it through the first time; he knew he wouldn’t survive a second time.

“It’s not.” Zayn said stubbornly, standing and grabbing for Harry with both hands, holding onto his hips so that he couldn’t move.

Harry stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at Zayn, staring at the freckle in his eye, at the gentle slope of his nose and the rough scruff of his beard. Zayn stared right back at him, eyes searching Harry’s. Then he leaned forward carefully until his breath was mingling with Harry’s, warm on his lips as he breathed in and out slowly. Before Harry could pull away, even if he’d wanted to, Zayn closed the gap between them to fasten his lips carefully to Harry’s.

It wasn’t like the kiss at the door, to be honest it wasn’t like any kiss they’d ever had before. It was soft and sweet, Zayn’s lips gently catching Harry’s but not bothering to deepen the kiss. Zayn trailed his hands up Harry’s body so he could tuck his hands in his hair, tugging carefully at the curls.

Zayn pulled back slowly. Harry kept his eyes closed, savoring the taste of Zayn - the familiar hint of smoke and mint mingling together with the whiskey. Harry blinked slowly, staring down at Zayn who was just looking up at him with a soft, serious look. He ran his thumb along Harry’s jaw, leaning forward to press another gentle kiss to his lips.

“It’s not over. I won’t let it be.” Zayn whispered, tugging so he could get Harry to sit back down.

Harry didn’t even recognize that he was crying until Zayn used his thumb to wipe a tear off his face. He was so so tired of hating Zayn; tired of being confused every time he thought about their relationship as he wondered if he had ever meant anything to Zayn.

“I can’t let you break my heart again.” Harry whispered, searching Zayn’s eyes for some hint of understanding.

“I won’t, I can’t.”

“You did before.” Harry sniffled, pulling back to wipe at his nose. “Without a thought.”

“I - I thought you were using me.”

Harry pulled back, shot out of Zayn’s grip like he’d been slapped. He stared at Zayn in horror. “You _what_?”

Zayn winced, reaching again for Harry’s hands. When Harry pulled away, Zayn settled for squeezing tightly to one knee as he stared at him in earnest. “You were...god, you were just this model that tripped into my life off his first major runway. At first, I just - I mean, you were hot. I wanted to fuck you and I did. But I never expected you to be sweet and soft and silly. Like, I’ve never laughed with anyone else like I laughed with you. I’ve never wanted to cuddle someone like I wanted to cuddle you. Take care of you.”

“Using you?” Harry whispered. He - he couldn’t believe Zayn would think that. He ran through every memory with Zayn he had, searching for evidence that Harry had been anything less than head over heels for Zayn.

“I - I let Louis get in my head.”

“Louis?” Harry questioned incredulously. “What does he have to do with anything?”

Louis had been cold that first party Harry had met him but he’d thawed slightly towards the end of the night. But it was true, when Harry had started what he’d always thought of as a relationship with Zayn (but apparently wasn’t), Louis had been increasingly cold towards him. The first tour date that Harry had gone to, Louis had practically shoved him to the side when he’d gotten too close to the edge of the stage. And there were the times he would be there at hotels before the pair of them went to dinner, glaring like Harry was doing something wrong. But Harry had barely noticed, so caught up in Zayn that he couldn’t see anything else around him.

“Lou’s just - he’s protective of me. Has always been. And...well, when I first made it big there were always people that just wanted to be around me so that they could help their own career. It - it hurt and he was just worried - ”

“What?” Harry cut in angrily “worried I was fucking you just to help my career?”

Zayn had the good conscious to look ashamed. “He didn’t know you; not like I did. _Do_ know you. All he saw was a fresh faced model with a career that was exploding.”

Harry sat back, trying not to get angry. He’d - well he’d always known what people were saying about him being with Zayn. Whenever they were pictured together there were rumors about PR and the age old ‘model bangs a musician’ trope playing out for the media to help both of their careers. Harry couldn’t pretend that it didn’t hurt then and that it wasn’t hurting him now to hear Zayn’s best friend thought he was using him.

And worst of all, that Zayn had believed it.

“An - and you believed him?” Harry sagged back in his seat. He didn’t pull away further, let Zayn keep his palm pressed against his thigh. But he was having trouble looking at him. Looking at this boy he’d loved so much he’d have removed his own heart if he asked for it only to learn Zayn had thought he was using him.

“Harry, I - ”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, avoiding the way his nose was running and the tears that had started to steadily fall. “I was - fuck, I was mad about you. So in love with you it hurt sometimes.”

“Why…” Zayn hesitated before continuing “why didn’t you ever say?”

Harry looked up at him incredulously. “Really? Zayn - ” Harry snorted before saying wetly. “I would have yelled it from the middle of the runway if I’d thought you cared. You were always pushing me away. There were times it would be weeks before I heard from you and you’d be pictured stumbling out of clubs with other girls or guys. And I was supposed to what? Hand you my heart when all you would have done was throw it away?”

“I wouldn’t have!”

“But you did, Zayn.” Harry managed not to yell back at him. Instead he was just tired, so very very tired of feeling so sad. He moved back, trying to keep his distance from Zayn. It was awful being right in front of him again, being next to him and smelling his familiar cologne and the soap that he used. It all just hurt a little too much.

Zayn stared at him, eyes wide and his brow pinched. Harry hated the way he wanted to snuggle him close, pull Zayn into him and tuck him under his arms because he looked upset.

“Harry, I - ” Zayn started then stopped, brushing his palms down the front of his jeans. He stared down at his hands for a long moment and Harry just eyed him cautiously letting him think for a long moment. When he finally looked up, his face was set determinedly, mouth pinched and eyes dark. “I love you. I have since the second I saw you. I remember wanting to push my thumb into your cheek until your dimple reappeared. I remember just following you around that party like a puppy, wondering if you were looking at me too. And - ” he inhaled sharply before continuing. “That first night with you…” he smiled, lips quirking up and his eyes all of a sudden soft and fond. “I thought I was going to puke when it looked like you’d leave right after. And you were just so _you_. I didn’t think my heart could take it sometimes with how much I loved you.”

“ _Zayn_.” Harry mumbled, hands shaking as he reached forward to tentatively brush his fingertips along the back of Zayn’s hand.

Zayn seemed to draw strength from that, snatching up Harry’s hand and lacing their fingers together. “After that first night here...I wanted you with me all the time. I wanted to have you come on tour with me and sit in the studio while I recorded and wrote. I wanted you on red carpets and to make you too spicy curry just so I could see your cheeks flush and your nose run. I wanted to sit front row at your shows and come to shoots with you. I wanted all that. I just - I let myself be scared. I wanted to give you the whole world and I was terrified that was all that you wanted from me. I thought I might not be enough.”

Harry sniffled, wiping at his nose with his free hand and squeezing Zayn’s fingers with the other. He felt the sob catch in his throat as he tried to swallow it down.

“You were always enough. I - I thought you didn’t care about me, thought I was just some lad you fucked in your free time when you didn’t have anyone else.”

“Never, Harry. I promise you that you were the only one. Always. I could never - not with anyone else when all I could think about was you.”

Harry didn’t want to think about how every word Zayn was saying was all he’d ever hoped and prayed for. The way that Zayn was looking at him in earnest, eyes big and wide and begging for Harry to trust him.

“You could have just said. You could have asked me.”

“I was terrified. I thought I might lose you if I did, thought you might decide I wasn’t worth it. And I wanted any part of you that you’d give me.”

“You’re an idiot.” Harry said on a sigh, unable to fight the way his lips were trying to pull up in a smile.

“Do - ” Zayn swallowed nervously, eyes dropping from Harry’s like he was having trouble keeping his stare. “Do you think we could try this again? But, like real. I don’t want to mess about anymore. I want you - I want you in everything that I do.”

Harry inhaled sharply.

This...this was Zayn offering him everything he had ever wanted. It was Zayn holding his hand tightly and staring at him like he was the sun. It was Zayn erasing the months and months of heartache with a simple look.

“I - I don’t know if I can. My heart wouldn’t bear it if we ended again.”

“I swear to you I’ll be different. I’m not good without you. I’m not myself.”

“Zayn…” Harry breathed out, inching closer to Zayn and reaching out to brush his thumb along his jaw. “I - ”

“I love you, Harry.” Zayn brought both hands up to cradle Harry’s face in his. “I promise you it’ll be different. I can’t be without you anymore but if you think you’re better off without me,” he swallowed and winced before continuing, “I’ll understand. I know I hurt you but I think we could be good together. _Really_ together.”

Before Harry could say another word, Zayn leaned forward to press a careful kiss to Harry’s lips, barely applying any pressure. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and he caught himself before he could whimper into Zayn’s mouth because as bad as it had hurt, as awful as it had been to have Zayn rip his heart out before, he couldn’t ever say no to him - all he needed was for Zayn to ask.

Zayn pulled back just enough so that he could stare carefully into Harry’s eyes. He waited patiently, brushing his thumb along the hinge of Harry’s jaw, rubbing at the soft skin as he held his breath.

“Yes,” Harry finally breathed out. Leaning forward to kiss Zayn softly, tangling his fingers in the fabric of his shirt and clutching at Zayn’s waist. “Yes, please. But…” he hesitated and pulled back. “You have a lot to make up for.”

Zayn grinned, wide and happy with his eyes crinkled into half-moons and his tongue tucked behind his teeth. He looked at Harry in a mixture of wonder and disbelief. “You mean it? You want me again?”

Harry snorted. “Zayn, if you think there was a time that I didn’t want you, you’re an idiot.”

“I am an idiot - I know I am. I’ll be better, I promise.” He started to mutter promises between kisses, pushing Harry back until he could climb into his lap, straddling him carefully and holding Harry’s face reverently. “I”ll be the best for you, pet, I promise. Just let me and I’ll prove it.”

“Okay.” Harry smiled up at Zayn, letting the sounds of Paris hum below them and the lights flickering around them illuminate this beautiful, idiotic boy that had finally realized that this was worth it - that Harry and Zayn might be successful on their own but together, together they were just two boys hopelessly in love and that might just be enough.

 

 

 

_**June 2020** _

 

 

 

Zayn collapsed on top of Harry, exhausted and sweating as he pressed his lips into the flushed skin at the base of Harry’s neck. Harry’s breaths were coming in short, quick gasps as he trailed his fingers along Zayn’s spine.

It took a few minutes for them both to catch their breath, for Zayn to carefully pull out and flop onto his back. Harry wiggled slightly, wrinkling his nose a bit.

“Don’t think I thought about how gross this would be.”

Zayn chuckled, lining his body up against Harry’s and rubbing lightly at his stomach, running his finger along his abs and tracing the outline of his butterfly.

“You were the one that wanted to wait until tonight for this.” Zayn argued back with no heat whatsoever, just a stupid smile on his face as he tilted his face up to look at Harry.

Harry smiled down at the top of Zayn’s head, brushing his hand through the dark mess of hair. Zayn was smirking a little but mostly he was just looking at him fondly and like Harry was his favorite person in the world. It was fitting because Harry knew without a doubt that Zayn Malik was _his_ favorite person in the entire universe.

“Zayyyynie,” Harry whined. “I thought it would be romantic.”

“Oh, pet. It was.” Zayn pressed his lips against the warm skin of Harry’s chest. “First time I got to really feel you and it’s the first night of the rest of our lives.”

“Today was pretty perfect.” Harry agreed, inching down in the bed with another little huff. Finally letting Zayn come in him had seemed like the perfect wedding gift but he was starting to regret it as he could feel it cooling and slipping out of him.

Zayn linked his fingers with Harry’s as he kept pressing small kitten kisses along his bare skin. “I feel like we should just buy this room. I don’t like to think about anyone else in this bed.”

“Not sure we can do that, love.” Harry snorted, rolling onto his side so he could tuck his leg between Zayn’s. Facing each other, it was easier to steal kisses and to have access to acres of golden skin.

“It’ll be my wedding gift to you.” Zayn offered with a smile. “We started here - twice. It’s ours.”

“We can have lots of other ‘ours’.” Harry reasoned, feeling stupidly happy. It had been nearly five years of knowing Zayn. Five years of the best and worst moments in his life, all wrapped up in one man.

And now they had forever.

Zayn leaned forward, kissing Harry gently, dipping his tongue between Harry’s parted lips and smiling into Harry’s moan. Harry didn’t think Zayn could go again already but he could feel him fattening against his thigh and Harry couldn’t help wiggling closer until his own cock was nudging against Zayn’s belly.

Harry hissed slightly at the pressure but he ached for more, ached for Zayn to be inside him again but Zayn pulled back so that Harry had to chase his lips for more.

Zayn tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair, tugging him back a bit so that he couldn’t move, grinning when Harry gave a petulant whine.

“Wait, pet.”

“Don’t want to wait, want you again.”

Zayn moaned when Harry pushed forward against him but pulled back, squeezing at Harry’s hips.

“Stop, babes. I have a plan.”

Harry rolled his eyes, intimately familiar with Zayn and his ‘plans’.

Over the last two years of building their relationship - dealing with conflicting schedules and nosy reporters, running around the world to be with each other when it had been too long apart - Zayn had been the man with the plans. If they had been separated for longer than two weeks, there would be a plane ticket delivered to Harry’s email or Zayn’s sleepy smile popping up in the front row of a show. There were elaborate dinners and even more private vacations than before - because while Zayn never hesitated to tell anyone within earshot that Harry was the love of his life, they wanted to keep the really important bits just for them.

“Why am I not your plan? Do me - I can be your plan.”

“You’re an idiot. I love you but you’re such a whiny little shit.”

Harry huffed, opening his mouth as he prepared his argument but the ringing bell of the suite stopped him. Zayn surged forward, pressing a final kiss to Harry’s lips before nimbly rolling off the bed and grabbing for the robe resting on the chair.

“Where’re you going? Did you invite strangers on our honeymoon?”

Zayn rolled his eyes but kept smiling. “Go clean up then meet me on the roof.”

Before Harry could argue, Zayn was out of the bedroom and down the hall. Harry flopped onto his back and gave himself thirty seconds of petulance before climbing out of bed and hobbling towards the shower. He cleaned himself up as quickly as he could while still be thorough. He couldn’t help the little tingles of pleasure as he brushed at his loose hole, moaning slightly and wishing his husband wasn’t so insistent on grand romantic gestures.

Once he felt sufficiently clean, he tugged on the other robe and carefully made his way up to the roof. Harry had an idea of what Zayn had planned so it wasn’t a complete surprise when he saw Zayn leaning against the rail, staring at the city lights with a table of cheese and bread behind him, a glass of whiskey in his hand and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket.

Harry smiled softly, bypassing the table and moving to stand behind Zayn. He wound his arms around his waist, tucking one hand into the robe so he could press his fingers to the warm skin of his stomach. He hooked his chin along Zayn’s shoulder, pressing a wet kiss just behind his ear.

“You’re a sap.” Harry couldn’t help but smile into Zayn’s skin.

“Only for you, pet.” Harry could hear the smile in his voice as they stood their quietly for a beat. “I love you, yeah?”

“I’m starting to think you might.” Harry teased before tugging on Zayn’s waist to pull him back towards the table where they could huddle together on the little loveseat. Zayn sipped his whiskey as Harry enjoyed the bubbles of champagne on his tongue. It didn’t take long for Zayn to start tracing and tickling his fingers along Harry’s thigh, inching higher and higher.

“I think I quite like not having to search for a condom.” Zayn whispered in Harry’s ear, tugging at the lobe then exhaling a little oomph when Harry shoved his way into Zayn’s lap.

“Not all the time, clean up is icky.”

“Icky?” Zayn raised an eyebrow up at Harry, hands continuing to roam under Harry’s robe. He tugged at the tie until he could press his thumbs into his hipbones. “What are you, 12?”

“If I am, this marriage isn’t exactly valid.”

Zayn growled, nipping at Harry’s jaw as he went. “Don’t you start with me just yet, pet. Always so damn difficult.”

Harry giggled, fully aware that people might be able to see the pair of them but quite frankly it had never stopped them before. And since Zayn was a planner, always knowing exactly what he wanted, he magically produced a small tube of lube. Using one hand to keep Harry steady even as he wiggled in his lap, the other was being used to drench his cock until he could ever so slightly lift Harry up only to sink into him with a sigh.

Harry expelled a soft little sigh, pressing his forehead against Zayn’s. “‘M glad you kept your promise,” he breathed against Zayn’s lips.

“I always will. I’ll always be the best for you. And you’ll be the best for me.” Zayn gritted out, eyes slipping shut when Harry lifted up an inch only to drop back down.

There was no stopping Harry’s grin, no stopping him from very very carefully riding his husband on the top of a roof in Paris and swallowing Zayn’s moans with his mouth. And Zayn couldn’t stop himself from holding tightly to Harry’s hips, helping him move and staring up at him like he was his everything.

It was the end of one part of their lives and the start to the rest of it. There was just the years and years stretching in front of them, the pair of them joined together for life. Because Zayn always kept his promises, and Harry would always give Zayn everything, confident that Zayn wouldn’t ever throw it away again.


End file.
